Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Kazakhstan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Gun Club to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Subhumans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Lalann,
World's Most,
Alice Coltrane,
Surgeon,
Leonard Cohen,
Loose Ends,
Ultravox,
The Birthday Party,
The Grass Roots,
Average White Band,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Severed Heads,
Nik Kershaw,
John Lydon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Angry Samoans,
Cal Tjader,
X-102,
Das Ding,
Amon Düül II,
These Immortal Souls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bob Dylan,
The Star Department,
Reagan Youth,
La Düsseldorf,
The United States of America,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bad Manners,
Organ,
Tom Boy,
Easy Going,
Monks,
Ronan,
Siglo XX,
Wolf Eyes,
Scion,
Sparks,
Mad Mike,
Vladislav Delay,
Judy Mowatt,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Depeche Mode,
Lebanon Hanover,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Barry Ungar,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Negative Approach,
The Sound,
Zero Boys,
The Smiths,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Agitation Free,
Morten Harket,
AZ,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Crispian St. Peters,
Goldenarms,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Slackers,
the Swans,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.